


a falling star and the planet he collided with

by mai4ki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Idols, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxious Oikawa Tooru, Background Relationships, Depressed Oikawa Tooru, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Idols, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Iwaizumi Hajime Swears, Iwaizumi Hajime is a Good Boyfriend, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Original Character(s), Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Original Character(s), POV Iwaizumi Hajime, POV Oikawa Tooru, Panic Attacks, Pining, Pining Iwaizumi Hajime, Pretty Setter Squad, Sad Oikawa Tooru, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mai4ki/pseuds/mai4ki
Summary: Oikawa knows he's a star. But sometimes he feels like an asteroid plummeting down towards earth, losing pieces of himself as he awaits the inevitable crash. Until he met Iwaizumi: the planet in which he was destined to collide with.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	1. alone with you

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished the Haikyuu manga and I've never felt more empty but happy. Haikyuu truly has helped me through a lot and I've always had it to fall back on in hard times. It's the feeling of stability it provides me that makes me love it so much.
> 
> I decided to write an Iwaoi fanfic because I truly feel like they are soulmates and I find Oikawa's character and connection with Iwaizumi incredibly fascinating. I hope I don't impose my own personality onto Oikawa too much (if you feel I'm veering off in a different direction please tell me!)
> 
> This is my first fanfiction and I don't think I'm that talented of a writer this is mostly for fun so feel free to correct me and give me constructive criticism.  
> TW: Anxiety, panic attacks, emotional abuse, implied self-harm. Please don't read if it makes you uncomfortable!

_The slow mechanical tick of the clock preoccupied Oikawa’s mind muffling the voices of the doctor and his fate. His eyes stayed on the clock behind the doctor: it read 13:09. And to think just this morning he was perfecting his serve ready for his future in Argentina playing professional volleyball. One slip of a foot and years of gruelling hard work to better himself were gone. It wasn’t fair. Once again, he was unlucky._

_“Tooru, are you even listening?” his mother turned to him with a scowl on her face._

_He kept staring at the clock._

_“You know what this means, don’t you son?” his father’s eyes joined his mother’s in an earnest stare. He turned to face them; their eyes burnt through his own and Oikawa felt like he was trapped in a burning building awaiting his inevitable demise._

_He detached himself from their gaze in an attempt to extinguish the fire raging through his head._

_It’s not fair_

_It’s not fair_

_It’s not fair_

_“Yeah. I do.” He spoke softly despite the frustration pulsating through his body. He was angry at his parents, the doctor, his coach, the world for being so cruel. But most of the hate he felt bottled up deep inside his heart was directed at himself._

\---

A thousand lights shone onto the boys' bodies, illuminating their already radiant eyes. You could look through them like windows and although Oikawa's shone - perhaps even the brightest - they were like doors. A locked door at the side of a building tucked safely into an alleyway. The type of door easily found in films and books but difficult to discover in real life. Even after you opened the door you'd find a box and in that another box like Russian dolls, each one hollow.

Despite everyone's certainty that Oikawa was the stereotypical pretty boy; he was hiding a part of himself. He had created this facade to mask his flaws and insecurities, which were great, perhaps infinite, and it worked: he was an Idol. It's not like he could actually reveal himself - he was manufactured for the sole purpose of being attractive.

Applause echoed through the venue and into Oikawa's head intertwining with his busy thoughts and it felt like traffic in his mind: reds, yellows and greens and horns, skidding and eventually - crashing. Hazy faces of fans intermingled with stage lights and his vision was slowly blurring; he was losing focus like a distorted camera lens.

Panic started to cluster in his stomach and his breathing began to accelerate to a point where he could no longer hear it. Oikawa felt his mouth being covered with a strip of thin sellotape: invisible but still there. His heart was racing with his breath and, although surrounded by people, Oikawa felt it was just him and the person suffocating him. Or maybe they were the same person? 

He stumbled across the stage, desperate to be alone.

"Oikawa-san?" he could hear faintly hear Suga's gentle voice over the roaring of fans but pushed it out of his mind as he reached backstage. Half a dozen crew members chased after him perplexed as to why he had left three minutes before the group were due off stage. But what were those three minutes even worth if he felt like this? The very concept of time stopped mattering to Oikawa long ago and right now it felt like he was running through the empty vacuum of space. 

His tears ran down his face synchronized with his feet that were running to solitude. His clammy hand met the cool metal of his dressing room door handle and he swung the door open, quickly closing it behind him and locking it as a way to shut out his problems - or maybe, he was the problem and he was just shutting himself inside with it. Resting his flushed forehead against the door he breathed heavily to try and control himself.

"Oi! What are you doing here?" he heard a gruff voice from behind him and swung around as his eyes met with a man, roughly the same age as him, crouched down by an amp. 

He rubbed his sleeves across his face trying hard to conceal the fact he had been crying and replied, "What- What do you mean?? This is my dressing room!"

"Alright, alright pretty boy don't bite my head off I'll leave. Jeez." he stood up and walked towards Oikawa. He was about to reach for the door handle when Oikawa gripped onto his arm.

"Wait! D-Don't leave." Oikawa's head was telling him he needed to be alone but his heart was saying another. As bizarre as it sounded, he felt at ease with the stranger.

"What? You were the one just telling me to go!" an angry expression came over the shorter man's face and Oikawa could tell he had pushed it.

"Well yeah but if you leave my managers will force their way in and I can't deal with them right now." He was lying: he just wanted somebody there with him. When the other boy didn't move or say anything Oikawa looked at him with puffy eyes and muttered a simple, "Please."

The boy's cheeks flushed and he muttered "Whatever" before walking back to the amp he was tampering with.

"So why are you crying?" he mocked, grinning wildly, but his face dropped when he turned his head to meet the idol's solemn expression.

"Long story." he sniffled.

"Were you overwhelmed? Surely you've gotten used to the crowds and lights by now?"

"Something like that." Oikawa chuckled dryly but was interrupted by a pounding of fists on the door and muffled shouts from what the stranger had presumed to be the pretty boy's managers.

Oikawa sighed preparing himself for the lecture he was about to receive and placed a hand on the door handle, hesitating for a second, contemplating the consequences if he stayed in there longer with this man he had just met. He turned his head to meet the man's gaze, soaking into his green eyes.

"Hey, what's your name?"

"Um... Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi Hajime."

"Well see you later then... Iwa-chan." and with that he stepped out of the dressing room leaving a flustered Iwaizumi to contemplate why someone he had just met would refer to him so casually. But that's not to say, deep down, he didn't like it...


	2. starting slow, moving fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I left for like 2 weeks, my mental health wasn't great and I had no motivation but I am back and better than ever now! And it's 4AM as I'm posting this so if there are any mistakes please tell me!

Waking up no longer had the same effect on Oikawa. He used to love the rush he felt in the morning: of the egg yolk sun pouring through his curtains, the way a bird’s coos were the only thing audible, the crispness of the morning air and the slight chill of it that tickled his cheeks and painted them a rosy shade. It made him feel truly alive.  


For a fleeting moment, upon opening his eyes, he can almost project those memories into the present but he is soon hit with the reality that he isn’t leading the life he had dreamt of: he is stuck. 

He sighs deeply, sitting up and staring at his cotton sheets that were as muddled as his thoughts. Oikawa traced his finger through each crease and smoothed at the kinks before collapsing back onto the warmth of his bed. 

As he melted into the warm and comforting familiarity of his bed, he felt his body getting lighter and lighter, drifting into insentience. But a sudden vibration caused him to jolt up and snap back into consciousness. Grunting, he reached over to glance at his phone which screen was full of notifications but clicked on the most recent which he presumed was from one of his managers.

07:39  
Tamo-chan: Don’t forget we have early practice for the upcoming tour today; a driver is on their way to pick you up. Don’t be late like last time.

Oikawa chuckled at her bizarre way of texting. He usually wouldn’t have bothered replying to his other managers but, despite her brusque attitude, he took a liking to Tamotsu. Especially seen as she was so easy to annoy.

7:40  
Yes Ma’am ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ 

7:40  
Tamo-chan: I told you not to call me that. It is worse than Tamo-chan! Couldn’t you just call me Himitsu-san for once?

Oikawa snickered at her reply trying to envision her pissed-off expression and his lips tugged into an unconscious smirk. Sighing, he picked himself up out of bed and walked to his en suite bathroom. He turned the metallic knob of the shower and took his clothes from yesterday, that he didn’t have the energy to remove the previous night, off and threw them in a heap on the floor. He shoved a leg under the water to test the temperature before climbing into the shower. 

The water poured down onto Oikawa’s body, dripping by his side and he let it beat down onto his head like a waterfall. The warmth was similar to his bed: the same pleasant familiar feeling. If he closed his eyes he almost felt the same heat he experienced when he played volleyball. The droplets mimicking sweat, the burning sensation rushing through his body: the adrenaline. But it wasn’t the same. 

Oikawa stayed like this for a while but eventually leaned his forehead on the cool tiled wall as his weak legs threatened to buckle beneath him. Steam cloaked the bathroom and settled on the mirror: he could get out now. He twisted the knob round back the other way and the thousands of droplets stopped immediately. His feet hit the soft material of the shower mat and keeping his eyes front, he wrapped a towel quickly around his waist. 

Oikawa exited the bathroom swiftly not taking a liking to the now sticky and suffocating sensation of the air around him. He went to perch himself on the edge of the bed eyeing his chest of drawers directly in front of him. His eyes latched onto it and everything else around him became unfocused, blurry like backgrounds of paintings. He remembered adopting this habit from watching volleyball matches late at night, absorbing every weakness his opponents showed and storing it into the back of his mind like a save file for a video game. Although now the things he focused on were inanimate objects, not his passion. They were ordinary and meaningless. 

He managed to find the will to pick himself up and change into a pair of black sweats and a grey hoodie. Discreet, simple, ordinary. That was fine, it had to be.  


Oikawa picked up his phone and stuffed it into his hoodie pocket, heading for the door. On his way to the door he passed the empty space where the mirror once hung. He knew he was pretty: his looks were probably the only thing he was above average in. But it was the fact he had to look at himself, this shell of a person he once was every day. And he hated it. So he removed it and it some ways it helped but it would be much easier if he could remove the feeling and not the object. 

Oikawa shook his head as an attempt to prepare himself for the long day ahead because now the days were long and tiresome. He grasped his skinny fingers around the door handle and opened it in one swift motion like ripping off a plaster. 

After entering the corridor it was like he was a whole new person: he had left the different, damaged side of him at home and locked the door to keep it hidden. Practically skipping down the numerous flights of stairs, the idol made his way to the entrance of his apartment building.  


Upon reaching the doors he could see transparent splodges trickle down the doors like paint. Oikawa hated the rain: always had, always will. It made his hair fall flat on his face in a cumbersome manner and the way it didn’t have a distinct taste or smell irritated Oikawa. He scoured the street for a black limousine and, as if on cue, it pulled up directly in front of him.

He groaned and pulled up his hood over his chestnut hair and approached the glass doors which opened automatically for him allowing the wet droplets to hit his face and a strong wind to blow him backward slightly. Clicking his tongue he picked up his pace and reached the car door, slipping into it quickly to avoid getting his face and clothes anymore wet.

Oikawa plastered one of his iconic half-smiles on his face, directed it at the driver and even added a cheerful ‘’yahoo’’ which was more to cheer himself up than anything. However, his energy was not returned as he the drive shot him a glare in the rear-view mirror, scrunching his thick eyebrows in judgment.

“Not a talker I see.” Oikawa giggled and turned his head to look out the window.

The drive seemed to drag on forever, much like the raindrops on the car window. 

Oikawa bid the driver farewell with a half-hearted wave and entered the building and clambered up the stairs to their private studio where they practiced choreography, waiting for the inevitable bombardment of people questioning him on his bizarre actions from the other night. But the one he was least looking forward to seeing was…

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mr-Ran-Out-Of-The-Super-Important-Concert Tooru” Kuroo smirked wildly and Oikawa could’ve sworn he’d heard snickers coming from behind him.

“I didn’t run out! I merely left early.” 

“Is that not the same thing?” Oikawa spotted a flash of grey and white come out from behind where Kuroo was standing. Bokuto. Great.

Although, Oikawa was relieved to see Suga walk through the door, his savior.

“What Kuroo meant to say is we were worried about you, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Of course, it was just a stomach ache. Think I ate something bad before.” He chuckled after his sentence as a way to lighten the mood and also convince his friends that he was back to normal. Bokuto might’ve accepted this, but Kuroo and Suga knew better.

“You should really take better care of yourself you know, I mean you’re a superstar after all.” A sardonic voice came from the doorway, a voice Oikawa knew anywhere. 

“Tamo-chan~~~” he practically skipped towards her and was ready to envelop her in a warm embrace but she snuck under his open arms and Oikawa turned to see her stood where Kuroo and Bokuto were standing. 

“Looks like yer got rejected again Tooru-kun.” Oikawa felt a strong grip of hands on his shoulders and turned to see the familiar blonde mop of hair that belonged to Miya Atsumu. Miya fucking Atsumu.

“Huh?! I don’t like Tamo-chan! She’s like a sister to me.” He scowled at his remark and even stuck his tongue out as he approached the 3 in the middle of the studio floor.

“Where the hell is Semi-san?” Tamotsu huffed, for someone so short she sure had a lot of anger stored up inside of her. 

“Probably practising,” Suga replied unfazed by Tamotsu’s raging expression.

“Practising what exactly?” Kuroo smirked with a suggestive tone in his voice. 

“Prob'ly suckin' Shirabu’s dick.” Atsumu grinned wildly from where he was on the floor.

“Do you guys have to be so vulgar??” Oikawa stated plainly, a hand covering his face as though to shield himself from the provocative language being tossed around so casually. Suga nodded in agreement.

“You know for once I agree with Tooru. God, why do I put up with you guys?”

“Because you love us~” Oikawa, Kuroo, and Bokuto all chimed in unison, stretching their arms out for a group hug which Tamotsu easily escaped out of upon hearing the sound of rustling outside the door. She bounded towards it and swung it open revealing a shocked Semi Eita on the other side.

“I- I can explain! Wai-” his rambling was cut off by a hand dragging him by his ear to where the rest of the idols were. 

“I do not want to hear it. Now, wait here for the choreographer. Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t even breathe.” She turned swiftly and her long black ponytail hit Semi in the face as she marched towards the door and out of it.

As soon as she was out of earshot they all burst into laughter, bent over with their hands on their stomachs, except Semi of course (who was still in shock at Tamotsu’s outbreak). 

“Why the hell are you laughing?? She’s scary as hell when she’s angry…”

Oikawa shrugged, placed a hand on Semi’s shoulder, and whispered, “Better you than me.”

\--- 

Practice was grueling. The choreographer was stricter than Tamo-chan, Oikawa thought. He was sweating profusely and he hated the way it felt on his skin and how it made his hair feel greasy. 

“Hey Dance Teacher-Kun, can I take a break real quick? Please?” he nagged as if he was a child begging his parent for more time to play outside. The teacher nodded, tired of his antics.

“Tired already Tooru?” Kuroo remarked, Bokuto and Atsumu giggling beside him as Suga and Semi both rolled their eyes. Oikawa flipped them off, grabbing his phone and heading out into the coolness of the studio hallway.

He was scrolling mindlessly, too absorbed in the flurry of comments, likes, and tweets he was receiving to notice the hard shoulder he had just crashed into.

“Can you watch where you’re going??” the man grunted in frustration but his face changed quickly when his eyes met Oikawa’s.

“Oh, it’s you.” He spoke in a rather nonchalant manner as if he hadn’t just seen the idol sobbing right next time him the other night.

Oikawa was frozen for a split second, an empty expression on his face before he straightened up and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair in an attempt to make himself look more presentable.

“Well hello there Iwa-chan.” He beamed one of his flashy smiles directly at Iwaizumi which made him seethe with anger but not for the right reason.

“Could you drop the weird-ass nickname? We’ve like, only just met.”

“Well we met under strange circumstances so I think it’s pretty fitting, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

Oikawa chuckled and leaned closer to Iwaizumi, so much so Iwaizumi could practically feel his hot breath on his skin. 

“Listen I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to anyone, I’ve got my image to keep up and all.”

“I wasn’t planning on and besides, who would I tell?”

“Well for all I know you could have some secret fan account dedicated to yours truly.”

“Yeah right.” Iwaizumi scoffed at the thought of it.

“Well you can never know everything about a person.” 

As much as he was right everything about Oikawa pissed Iwaizumi off: from his stupid hair to his irritating smile.

“If you don’t mind I’ll be going now.” He spoke brashly and was about to turn in the other direction without a care in the world when he felt a hand enclose around his forearm.

“Wait! Is there something I can do to apologize?”

“Why would you need to apologize?”

“I don’t know I just feel bad for well, you know, the other night. I tell you what I’ll take you to a great place, they have the best rice balls in all of Tokyo, trust me.”

Iwaizumi debated this for a second, was he really about to accept this invitation?

“Why would I-“

“Okay great I’ll meet you outside after I finish my rehearsal!” 

And before Iwaizumi could object the Idol had already bolted down the hallway and into the studio. 

\--- 

Practice went fast after that. Faster than the drive over there and faster than the raindrops on the window. Maybe it was because Oikawa finally had something to look forward to instead of coming home to stare at the same white walls. Oikawa had been the first out of the stuffy studio room and was bounding out the building like a puppy greeting its owner after a long day of work.

Tamotsu head snapped up from the middle of her conversation and she yelled after him, "Wait! Oikawa-kun!" but he was already out the door before she got a chance to warn him. 

"For god's sake I needed to tell him something important..." she murmured under her breath, hesitant of prying ears.

“What’s up with him?” Bokuto had whispered to Kuroo, perplexed by Oikawa’s sudden energy surge.

“Beats me.” Kuroo shrugged also disturbed by his friend’s change in behavior.

\--- 

Oikawa’s eyes scoured the street in search of Iwaizumi, eager to spend his afternoon with him. 

“Hey.” He emerged from the doors with a scarf wrapped around his neck and a slight tinge of pink across his cheeks. Oikawa wondered if this was due to the heat of the building or his reaction to seeing him (he prayed for the latter). Iwaizumi passed a stunned Oikawa who was shocked Iwaizumi had even agreed to his plan (although not vocally).

He turned and rolled his eyes at Oikawa, “Are you coming then or what?”

Oikawa ran to catch him up and smiled softly.

“You remind me of someone.”

“God help whoever this ‘someone’ is that’s acquainted with you.”

Oikawa stopped in his tracks and shot Iwaizumi an affronted glare. He turned back to look forward with a slight ‘tsk’ and a pout on his lips. Iwaizumi’s eyes widened at his childish reaction but smirked knowing he had this effect on him.

“Well, how am I meant to know what this person’s like, I don’t even know you.”

A smirk formed on Oikawa's lips.

“Trust me, it’s a compliment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the rest of the idols I just chose characters I think would work well together (I always wanted Kuroo, Bokuto and Oikawa interactions and I feel like Atsumu and Oikawa would have a funny dynamic, I feel like Suga would look out for Oikawa and I threw in Semi purely for self-indulgence and because he's pretty and a musician).
> 
> PS: Pay attention to names like my OC's and time and numbers because I put in little details as a way to foreshadow parts of the story (don't ask me why I do I just like to).
> 
> Here's a reference for what Tamo looks like (think Futaba from Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai):  
> https://picrew.me/image_maker/6738/complete?cd=9mrCun9FaO


	3. are you okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry I sort of bailed again. These past few weeks haven't been great for me, home and personal stuff all that and I've started school so I have less time to update. I don't really like this chapter but I really wanted to update for you guys and myself as well so I can get over my slump.

The rest of the way to the Onigiri shop felt agonizing slow – well - at least to Oikawa. 

They hadn’t talked or even looked at each other since they started walking and all Oikawa could focus on was the sky. It was a melancholy gray with peekaboo strays of sun that shone through the clouds with a slight silver tint. The air smelt like remnants of a downpour: that sticky sweet sensation that rose until your nostrils without warning. That smell, that feeling was probably the only thing Oikawa liked about rain.

Each step he took felt heavy and dragged out and the aching pain in his bad leg felt like a constant nagging reminder of his injury. 

The awkward silence made it even worse because all Oikawa could hear was the deafening voice at the back of his head criticizing him for making such an impulsive suggestion to a man he’d only just become acquainted with. He wondered if sparking a conversation would remove the glaringly obvious tension or if it would cause Iwaizumi to up and leave altogether. 

He relied on his peripheral vision to try and read what Iwaizumi was thinking but it proved difficult: he wore the same nonchalant expression Oikawa had seen when they first met. Oikawa scrutinized further, looking for any hint of emotion in the man’s face. This was something Kuroo and Atsumu hated, stating bluntly it was an annoying trait that made them question why they were even friends with Oikawa to begin with. In this situation, however, it came in handy. 

Oikawa was just about to comment on the slight flush of Iwaizumi’s cheeks signifying his nervousness when a squeal of voices came into his earshot. Iwaizumi stopped abruptly and grunted causing Oikawa to turn to where Iwaizumi was looking and sure enough, there were five teenage girls running up to him and giggling wildly.

Oikawa debated turning them down, politely of course; Iwaizumi didn’t seem like a very patient person. But, much to Oikawa’s surprise, he walked to the side of the sidewalk and rested himself against the wall and stared at him with a look as if to say ‘go on then, get on with it.’

So, as he always did when meeting fans, he plastered a smile on his face and waved. They were like every other fan he’d ever met: they asked for selfies, they tittered amongst themselves and they left.

Oikawa always made sure to make an extended amount of effort with his fans, and, if he was being completely honest, he quite liked the attention being an Idol harbored him. He always made sure to stay active on social media, posting daily selfies and doing stupid dances with Bokuto while the rest of the group mocked them from the sides. He shared enough online for fans to believe they knew him fully and even led to a few crazed fans trying to dig up every random fact about him from when he peed himself in Kindergarten to how he lost his virginity. Quite frankly, the sheer power of straight, horny teenage girls scared him but anything for the fans, right? 

“Are they always like that?” Iwaizumi propped himself off the wall and started walking in the direction he presumed this rice ball shop was.

“Like what?” Oikawa picked up his pace to catch him up. He’s fast, he thought.

“Annoying.” 

“Hey! Those are my precious fans you’re talking about.” Oikawa pouted but if he was being completely honest they were pretty annoying.

“Well your ‘precious fans’ are wasting my time.” He motioned his hand in air brackets, questioning Oikawa’s honesty in that statement.

“Wow didn’t know you were so excited to have lunch with little old me.” 

“I’m not, I just have places to be after.” 

“Ouch. So mean Iwa-chan~” Oikawa extended the last syllable of the nickname just to spite him, which worked, of course.

“What’s with that stupid nickname??” he questioned with a harsh tone that made Oikawa flinch slightly.

“Aw come on, you really don’t like it?”

Iwaizumi hesitated a split second and tried to cover it with a forcefull “no”, which Oikawa picked up on.

“If you really didn’t like it… you would’ve told me the first time and you wouldn’t have hesitated just then.”

Iwaizumi clicked his tongue in retaliation but stayed silent: he knew Oikawa was right.

\---

“This is it?” Iwaizumi scrunched his face up at the sight in front of him.

“Yes, is there a problem?” Oikawa taunted him, expecting a reaction but it was to no avail.

“No, there isn’t.” and Iwaizumi pushed the door open producing a ding as he walked in. 

It was far from what Iwaizumi had predicted a person like Oikawa to take him to. He was expecting something much more extravagant or expensive, after all, Oikawa seemed to fill that clichéd posh boy attitude perfectly. The shop was tucked away on a narrow side street but still made its presence known with a white tiled roof and a huge logo of a rice ball with the words ‘Onigiri Miya’ scrawled by the side of it. Its interior felt light and airy and comfortable. In some ways, it reminded him of Oikawa. 

There was a small bamboo counter at the back of the shop and two wood tables each with a couple of chairs tucked under them. As for decorations, there was a chalkboard on the left wall with thousands of drawings and words. They were all littered and jumbled so you couldn’t make out anything significant but even as a mess it was still almost beautiful.  
Oikawa stood next to Iwaizumi staring at him intently for some validation of his choice for lunch. Of course, he received none. There was no way Iwaizumi would admit he liked this quaint shop: Oikawa’s ego didn’t need inflating anymore. 

“Oh, it’s you.” A tall young man with dark hair, who looked around the same age as the two, emerged from the kitchen and Iwaizumi presumed it was the owner. He watched as Oikawa walked up to him with that annoying smirk on his face.

“Hey! What do you mean ‘it’s you’? I thought we were buddies?” 

“Jeez, yer just like my brother. Who’s this anyway?” He gestured towards Iwaizumi and just as Iwaizumi was about to introduce himself Oikawa did it for him.

“This is Iwaizumi Hajime. He’s my best friend of 10 years! Aren’t you Iwa-chan?”

“He’s lying, I only just met him.”

“God ‘elp yer poor soul.” 

Oikawa stood there in shocked offence as Iwaizumi and Osamu laughed together.

Iwaizumi went to sit down at one of the tables as Oikawa talked with Osamu for a short while before he returned to the kitchen at the back

“So… about the other day-“

“Look you’ve already apologized and like I said I won’t tell anyone.”

“Right” Oikawa chuckled nervously, although he was taller he would be lying if he didn’t say he was completely intimidated by Iwaizumi.

He cleared his throat and tried to change the subject, “So, when did you start working for the agency?”

“Week or so ago. It’s not ideal but it’s good money, at least till I finish college.”

“Oh, so you’re a college boy, eh?” Oikawa’s eyebrows peaked with interest but Iwaizumi only faced him with a frown.

“Well yeah, that’s what I just said.”

Oikawa ignored his snide remark and continued the subject, “What are you studying?”

“Sports science, I wanna be a personal trainer one day. Hopefully move to America, if I’m lucky.”

“Oh. Did you play a sport in high school?”

“Yeah, volleyball.”

Oikawa felt a wave of nostalgia hit him and he recalled flashbacks of all the time he spent on volleyball, all the passion he poured into it. He shook his head which confused Iwaizumi but carried on the topic. 

“Oh yeah? What position?”

“Wing-spiker, well, ace. I guess.”

“No way! I played setter. Not to boast or anything but I was pretty damn good.”

“If you were so good how’d you end up an Idol then?” Iwaizumi snorted but stopped as soon as he saw Oikawa’s usual irritated expression mixed with a hint of hurt.  
Oikawa debated telling him everything: all the years toiling, of his injury and of everything that happened after. But he resorted to shifting the attention back on Iwaizumi’s past.

“What about you Mr. Ace? Why didn’t you go pro?”

“Well volleyball was my passion, yes, but I figured why not help people as well. If I can become a personal trainer I can do both. Besides, I was too short to go pro.” Iwaizumi stated plainly but in his eyes, Oikawa could see it meant a lot to him.

“Fair enough.”

“But you never answered my question.” Iwaizumi questioned and Oikawa had hoped he’d dropped it: usually deflecting any personal questions worked but Iwaizumi was smarter than most of the people Oikawa surrounded himself with. 

Oikawa wondered just how much he should reveal, he could always lie. But then again, he didn’t think Iwaizumi would fall for such a basic defense mechanism.

“I wasn’t good enough.”

“You just said, and I quote, ‘I was pretty damn good’.” Iwaizumi looked perplexed by Oikawa’s vague explanation.

“Yeah, but not good enough. Every time I improved I was overtaken. And eventually, I’d just reached however far I could go.”

“So you quit because someone was better than you?”

Oikawa felt the anger building inside of him and his face turned into a frown. He debated telling Iwaizumi the real reason he didn’t go pro instead of some half-assed explanation, even if it was partly true. 

“That’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard. There’s always going to be people better than you, that’s just how it is. And if that really is the reason you give up I feel bad for you.”

Oikawa sat there dumbfounded at Iwaizumi’s astonishing bluntness towards a man he had just met. No one had ever spoken to him so directly about his short-lived volleyball career; most considered it a taboo subject and avoided bringing it up at all costs.

“Well?”

Oikawa felt like exploding. It still wasn’t fair. It wasn’t an excuse, it was just a fact. 

He stood up from his seat abruptly, slamming his hands on the table. 

“It’s not just that! You don’t understand how difficult it was!”

This remark caused Iwaizumi to react the same as Oikawa, just a million times angrier.

“I this, I that, what do you mean ‘I don’t understand’?! We played the same sport, right? I get you practiced but so did I, so don’t act like I don’t know what it feels like!” 

Although the words were harsh and Iwaizumi could’ve approached the subject in a gentler way, it almost snapped Oikawa out of this bubble he had been surrounded in. Almost. 

“You’re right.”

“I know that’s why I said it.” Iwaizumi retorted and leaned back to slouch in his chair, staring intently at the chalkboard wall instead of whatever irritating expression Oikawa had on his face right now.

Osamu, who had heard the majority of their conversation, approached the pair hesitantly, wondering if he’d get his head bitten off by Iwaizumi or face the brunt of one of Oikawa’s childish moods. But then he remembered he had dealt with Atsumu’s almost daily when they were teens and even in adulthood Atsumu was still ringing him up to complain about something or other. Oikawa and Atsumu really were like two peas in a pod.

Osamu placed the rice balls between them, strengthening the already predominant wall between the two grown men, who, ironically, were ignoring each other’s presence like a couple of elementary school kids who had a debacle at lunchtime break.  
Osamu felt like laughing in their faces but he managed to control himself and left them alone to figure things out. 

\---  
They ate in silence, just like the walk there and pretty much every encounter they’d had so far. Which was weird, you’d think meeting someone meant non-stop talking.  
Halfway through eating Oikawa had had enough.

“I had an accident.” He stated simply, crossing his arms across his chest and turning his head as to try and hide the extent of how much it hurt to think about, let alone talk about.

Iwaizumi stopped eating completely and sat the rice ball on the table, staring intently at Oikawa signifying he was listening.

“I was practicing jump serves, tore my ACL and I had to quit,” Oikawa confessed.

“That’s… shitty.”

“Yeah, it is. I think what was worse is I saw it coming,” Oikawa shifted under the table and extended his leg to show the scar where he had had surgery, “my left knee never was that strong and my coach warned me if I kept practicing so much it’d damage it.” He chuckled to try to alleviate the somber atmosphere he just brought upon the restaurant.

“I knew it.”

“Knew what?” Oikawa questioned, his eyebrows knitted in bemusement.

“That you were one of those annoying guys who never stop chasing the ball. And people like that will never truly be satisfied.” 

“And what’s wrong with that?!” Oikawa turned to face him and frowned.

“When, in that sentence, did I say it was a bad thing?”

It was at this point Oikawa felt his whole body melt into the chair and all his worries fall like dominoes. He felt heard. 

But then a chime vibrated from inside his pocket, which tone was set to one specific person and Oikawa knew he had to reply or face dire consequences. He excused himself and unlocked his phone to read it.

12:37 PM  
Tamo-chan:  
Your parents are back today, I tried to warn you earlier but you ran off.  
Idiot.  
Received 

Shit. Was the only thought that came to Oikawa’s mind. He’d completely forgotten his parents were due back from business in America. What would they say? What would they do? Oikawa accepted they must’ve heard about the stunt he pulled at the concert but he hadn’t managed to formulate a plausible explanation for his actions. The others may have fallen for the old ‘stomach ache’ excuse but his parents certainly wouldn’t.

Just thinking about it caused all the dominoes Iwaizumi knocked down to be stacked up again, one after another in a complete circle.  
“Are you ok?” Iwaizumi tilted his head in bewilderment. 

This question caught Oikawa off guard. People asked him if he was okay every day but you could always tell that they wouldn’t necessarily be phased by whatever answer you spewed out; it was just a simple phrase to fill up an awkward atmosphere or a short greeting for others to reassure themselves they were, in fact, a decent person. Usually, Oikawa would’ve met them with a fake smile with an equally fake answer but there was something in Iwaizumi’s eyes that caused him to hesitate for a second and revaluate how he actually felt, deep inside. Was Oikawa really okay? Had he pulled his lips into a phony smile so much his muscles just automatically did it? Had he said ‘I’m fine’ so many times to other people he’d tricked his mind into believing it?

“Yep, all good. But I’ve got to go now. You know how it is being famous and all.”

Iwaizumi had noticed something about Oikawa from the moment they’d first met: he was always smiling. But it was also always a bogus one that made him want to knock the living daylights out of Oikawa. And deep down a part of him felt uneasy, was he really ok? Had he ever even shown anyone a genuine smile? What exactly was he hiding? Iwaizumi shook it off, it was out of character for him to worry so much and for a stranger at that. Still, the long for a day where he could see Oikawa’s honest smile, which he pictured to be irritatingly beautiful, never left his mind. 

“Right.”

“I’m joking, obviously, I forgot I have to pick up my parents from the airport.” Oikawa laughed at Iwaizumi’s serious expression.

“Sorry,” Oikawa mumbled before grabbing his jacket, which was hanging on the back of his seat, and walking calmly out the door, leaving Iwaizumi on his own with conflicting feelings.

And maybe it was something about the apologetic look he gave Iwaizumi before leaving or the way he looked almost adorable when eating but Iwaizumi really didn’t mind he was leaving, as long as they could see each other again.

\---

As soon as Oikawa felt that he was out of Iwaizumi’s piercing green eyes, he sprinted home, the fear of what his parents would say if he were late propelling him onwards. Each time one of his feet hit the ground it caused leftover rain to leap out at all angles and collapse back onto the stone sidewalk, wetting the cuffs of Oikawa’s pants in the process. There was no doubt in his mind his parents would have some censuring remark to make about this. 

By the time he made it to the entrance of his apartment building, his chest was burning and his feet killed with every inch of his being. He scrambled up the stairs, not bothering to take the elevator, which was agonizing slow, to his front door and awkwardly jammed the key in twisting it to reveal his empty apartment. He scoured the place for his car keys, which had been untouched since summer (it was October now) unearthing old photographs and little gifts his fans had given him. He sighed a sigh of relief when he discovered them stuffed under a jumble of rings, pieces of paper, letters from the bank and odd coins in a tray by the entranceway. 

He darted out the door and main exit and clambered into his car, which luckily had been cleaned completely a couple of weeks ago. If it was in the same state it was in summer his parents would just have yet another flaw in Oikawa they could identify, they were always so judgemental it drained him completely.

Thankfully, Oikawa’s apartment building was not very far from the airport. And although the noise of planes flying overhead infuriated him, it was quite calming to watch the planes go to and fro from the airport with their giant metal wings and blinking lights. It alleviated any feeling of worry and occupied him from whatever shitty thing he was crying over at the time. Just standing there on the balcony, a vinyl playing in the back from the record player Suga had bought him for his 20th birthday last year and not a single thought swimming through his mind, just the lights, the cool evening breeze and him. 

The airport during the day, however, was not calming, not in the slightest. It was ugly and melancholy and chock full of people. Waiting in the foyer felt like a form of torture, only worse, and if he could, he'd take the physical pain instead of the heavy mass of panic that was harvested deep inside his chest. He pictured his father and mother with their serious faces and gulped, fidgeting with his fingers nervously. 

Looking up, he scoured the airport for his parents and sure enough, his eyes landed on his giant of a father in a dark gray suit with a blue pin-dot tie with sleek chocolate brown hair, which was gelled back on his forehead and a clean-shaven face. Stood next to him was his mother who had the same color hair as Oikawa except it was straightened and tucked neatly behind her ears. She wore makeup and despite her tall, slender physique and stern expression she always had on her face, she had soft and beautiful features - but Oikawa supposed this is to be expected of an ex-model. When she actually smiles Oikawa recalled all his fond childhood memories of her; of the picnics they had, of their walks, making pancakes on rainy days. Now, however, she rarely smiled and if she did it was only a slight upturn of her lips.

They soon spotted him and approached him, pausing for a reaction. 

“Hello Father,” he bowed in his father’s direction and turned to his mother soon after, “Mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments or kudos would be greatly appreciated they keep my will to write going haha.


End file.
